


Rope and Chocolate

by Anonymous



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Chocolate, Consensual Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delaying, Rope Bondage, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/728.html?thread=2592728#t2592728">Originally posted here</a>
</p><p>Other prompts used for inspiration:</p><p>http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/1249.html?thread=1393889#t1393889<br/>http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/1249.html?thread=1463265#t1463265</p>
    </blockquote>





	Rope and Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted here](http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/728.html?thread=2592728#t2592728)
> 
> Other prompts used for inspiration:
> 
> http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/1249.html?thread=1393889#t1393889  
> http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/1249.html?thread=1463265#t1463265

Martin may be new to the "scene", but he can make an educated guess that the ropes Douglas is twining around him are the kinky equivalent of champagne and caviar. They don't feel like they're going to give him rope burn the next day, but they also feel firm and unyielding.

He watches intricate knots come into being under Douglas' fingers. "Another thing you're _very good at_?" Martin quips, to hide his increased arousal.

"But of course," Douglas murmurs. "Have you any doubts, sir?" His chocolate-smooth voice twines its own intangible coils around Martin.

They're in Douglas' study, which doubles as playroom for the evening. The innocuous looking ceiling lamp hooks reveal their secret life as anchors for a clever net of bindings, like a kinky spider's web in which Martin is the willing fly.

"You have an undercover dungeon," Martin says, excitement bubbling up in his chest with every deft touch of Douglas' hands on his naked skin, with every binding securing him ever so tighter in place.

"Would you rather it was an obvious one?" Douglas inquires, lips on Martin's earlobe as he leans into him, to reach behind Martin and fasten another coil around his chest. "Can you breathe easily?"

Martin draws in a deep breath, inhaling Douglas' scent - faint traces of fine cologne, rich chocolate, and that undefinable warm human scent that is pure Douglas. The chocolate aroma isn't part of the cologne's bouquet, neither is it metaphorical - it comes from the large bowl of chocolate sauce that Douglas has already sampled.

"Yes," Martin murmurs back.

"Hm," Douglas says consideringly, and tightens the ropes fractionally.

Martin's breath catches and blood rushes to his cock. It's not constricting his breath by any means, but it's just enough to make him constantly aware that he's tied up, bound, held.

Douglas' knowing grin, while the most annoying thing in the cockpit, is a lot more forgiveable when Douglas is using that knowingness for their mutual pleasure.

When he's done, Douglas stands back - presumably, Martin supposes, to admire the results of his work and be smug about them.

There's a lot to be smug about. Martin tests the layer of rope around him with a few twitches and twists, and finds it arousingly tight. Douglas smirks, tweaking Martin's nipples between his fingers. While most of his body is covered and restrained by Douglas' handiwork, his nipples, his belly-button, his cock and his arse are all fully exposed.

Douglas hums and nods, and reaches for the chocolate bowl; he dips his fingers two knuckles deep in the creamy sauce, then brings them to his mouth. Martin licks his own lips, reflexively, eyes fixed on Douglas' mouth. Douglas pops his fingers one by one in between his lips, seemingly ignoring Martin staring at him, but instead of moving his hand, he bobs his head up and down. Martin's breath stutters. Douglas grins.

"Oh, sorry, got distracted for a bit. Would you like to have some chocolate, Martin?"

He doesn't wait for the answer, but ploughs the tips of his fingers through the sauce, then strokes Martin's lips with them. Martin opens his mouth and tries to suck the tips in. Douglas lets him get a taste, and then pulls them back. Martin tries to follow, but the restraints arrest his movement shortly. He moans, feeling his cock harden.

Douglas leers. "I didn't mean if you'd like to eat some chocolate."

Then he kneels and begins to paint Martin's cock with chocolate sauce. Each cool creamy stripe his fingers leave is followed by a velvety hot lick of his tongue. He licks as if he's licking an ice-cream or a lollipop, as if Martin's cock was just a surface that happened to be covered in chocolate. Soon, Martin is moaning and gasping, short little bursts of neediness. He's hard as a rock, and ready to come with the right kind of stimulation, which is a sure sign that Douglas will soon pull back.

Sure enough, as soon as he's licked Martin's cock clean, he sits back on his heels and glances up. "It's very good chocolate, wouldn't you agree?"

"Ah, um, what? How would I know?" Martin mumbles through panted breaths. "You don't seem very eager to, um, take it in your mouth." He's proud of the double entendre he managed to string together.

Douglas, bless him, doesn't laugh, but grins mischievously. "Oh, I think it's good enough to be worth savouring it slowly. Very, very slowly. Would you like some more?"

While Martin hesitates between trying to come up with something witty and a shameless "yes, oh yes, please!" Douglas stands up and gets to work on Martin's nipples. He smears them with chocolate, then licks and nibbles until the hardened nubs are shining with saliva. Martin gasps and whimpers. Shivers of arousal shoot right to his cock, but it's not enough, it's just this side of unsatisfying, just tantalising reminders of what it could be if only Douglas would touch his cock again.

"Douglas, Douglas!"

"What is it, Martin?" Douglas asks, as if only noticing Martin now.

Martin breaths loudly in reply, twitching his hips forward - a pointless motion, quickly stopped by the restraints, but one that Douglas can't have missed.

"Really? Do you want this to be over already?" Douglas drawls languidly. "I could make you come in under two minutes, if you so wished."

He nods minutely towards Martin's right hand. Martin only has to pull the cord, and all the intricate knotwork would fall open, his hands free to take and grab and even give his own pleasure.

"But I've only just started, and I have so many things I wanted to show you on you... So many ways to make you come. How can you know which way you want it until I haven't gone through each and every one of them?"

Douglas punctuates the last sentence with a lick up Martin's cock, starting at the tip and going all the way to the base, tongue dipping in the ginger bush of hair, darting between cock and balls.

"Delicious," he murmurs. "I could do this for hours."

Martin's eyes widen, fixed on Douglas' chocolate-smeared grin. He thinks about hours of Douglas' tongue teasing him, bringing him close to release only to move away again, and again, and again.

"You'll- you'll run out of chocolate," he chokes out.

Douglas' grin widens. He's not unaffected by this chocolate extravaganza - his dark-brown eyes are even darker with dilated pupils, and there's a deep pink flush over his neck and chest.

"How about you count on that, and I just do my thing?" Douglas says, in a mock condescending tone. He seems to consider what to do next for a moment, then with a resolute motion takes Martin's cock in one hand, the chocolate bowl in the other, and dips the former into the latter, as if Martin were fucking the chocolate bowl.

"My cock is not a sodding spoon, Douglas!" Martin whimpers, any sarcasm or annoyance drowned out by the breathiness of his voice.

"I beg to differ - well, 'beg' being strictly rhetorical, here. Your cock is whatever I want it to be, Douglas says smoothly, sucking more chocolate from the tip. "And right now, it makes for a very odd," - licking - "rather kinky," - licking - "spoon" - dipping it in chocolate again - "and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Ah!" Martin cries out, bucking his hips futilely. "Douglas... I can't- you can't expect me to keep from _asking_ , though."

"Can't I?" Douglas drawls. "Keep the noise up and I'm gagging you."

The scenario has been mostly Martin's idea, so he was expecting, even counting on a gag, but he's rather surprised when he sees what Douglas has in his hand. When has he got _that_?

Douglas' eyes flicker towards Martin' right hand and the safety pull contained within, and Martin realises that his surprise might look like reluctance.

"Ah, got that in Amsterdam, have you?" he asks as nonchalantly as he can manage it. "I-I noticed you looking. In that shop."

"Mhm," Douglas agrees, grin back in place. "I came back later that day, while Sir was valiantly battling the trip budget."

The cock-shaped gag is pushed gently enough into his mouth. Martin's lips part naturally on the rounded shape, thick silicone settling on his tongue. The details go as far as having a ball-shaped flared base. Since he can't have Douglas' cock in his mouth in the same time as in his arse, this is as close as he can get.

"Can you breathe?" Douglas whispers.

Martin nods, artificial cockhead bobbing on the roof of his mouth; Douglas buckles the gag behind his head.

Douglas takes the chocolate sauce bowl and Martin's cock reprises its stint as a spoon. There's so much chocolate on it, Martin thinks he's going to get sugar rush through his cock. Douglas slurps noisily around the head; his tongue gets everywhere; he brings Martin so, so maddeningly close, but never enough to make him come; the rhythm isn't quite right, and there's not enough tight heat around him. Any attempt to push his cock deeper in Douglas' mouth is promptly stopped by the coils of rope, and Martin soon abandons the struggle, relishing in his defeat. He closes his eyes and sags against the ropes, surrendering to whatever Douglas has planned for him next.

His obedience is rewarded by the cool nudge of Douglas' tongue at his hole. "I have melted white chocolate for this part of the plan," Douglas announces. "Apart from the obvious reasons," he says casually - he's the only man who can make such innuendo and not spoil the mood, "the white chocolate sauce makes it look like I've already come on your crack and let it dry there. With the obvious advantage of _not being dry_ ," he adds, licking a narrow spiral around the ring of muscles. Martin trembles with the effort to push back just an inch more, half of an inch, but the unyielding ropes keep Douglas away from the centre until he deigns to breach Martin himself with the tip of his tongue.

Martin doesn't know if he can come just from being rimmed. He has a few interminable minutes to wonder about that, as Douglas takes his sweet time, but then Douglas slides a finger inside. That would do it. Could do it, if Douglas wanted to. Instead, chocolate is replaced by lube, tongue by yet another finger, so it's becoming obvious that Martin is being prepped. Yet, after stretching him for a good while - which is arousing, but not orgasm-worthy - Douglas teases at his prostate.

Martin knows he's just teasing, but he can't stop himself from feeling closer and closer to the edge, can't prevent the coiling tension in his balls. Douglas has three fingers in him now, stretching and teasing by turns. Maybe he can't tell just how close he is, Martin thinks, guiltily hoping he might trick Douglas. Just as Martin is sure the rising wave of heat he's feeling is going to break into a shuddering orgasm, Douglas pulls his fingers out - gently, carefully. He traces the outer ring with his forefinger, slowly, almost idly; Martin groans, a guttural sound, desperate and low, and bucks his hips.

"Be still," Douglas whispers, his warm breath tickling Martins' skin.

Martin whimpers through the gag. As if he has a choice.

"All in due time," Douglas murmurs at the base of his spine.

His fingers are content to knead Martin's buttocks for a bit, dipping under the ropes now and then, making the neglected skin tingle. Martin remembers to draw a deep breath, realising he's been panting and gasping for a good while.

Then Douglas deep throats him, piercing eyes pinning Martin's gaze on his, until Martin is sucking desperately at the gag and drooling uncontrollably around it with the need to come, to flood Douglas' throat with his release while screaming his throat raw. 'This is it, this has to be it!' he thinks desperately.

Douglas draws back. He swirls his tongue around the head - an otherwise delightful gesture, but now it breaks the rhythm from before and Martin feels his climax slipping away again. Tears stream down his cheeks and gather on his chin, joining with the saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth.

"All right there, Martin?" Douglas whispers very, very softly.

Martin nods, closing his eyes. He takes a few shuddering breaths.

Douglas pulls back a little, enough so Martin can see that he's thumbing the head of his own cock. Douglas gives it a few languid strokes as Martin watches enviously.

Douglas spends a few minutes touching Martin's skin, wherever it is exposed - caressing his jaw, kneading his back, rubbing soothing circles on his abdomen around his bellybutton, fingering his navel. He then nudges their cocks together, makes a tight ring of his hands around both of them and strokes vigorously. Martin closes his eyes, anticipating the swift peak of his arousal, as well as the moment when Douglas will pull back - at the last moment, of course. Martin has been hoping for it, because he rather hopes that cock is going to be inside him before he's finally allowed to come.

He can't have any part in that decision, of course, which is the whole point of this. He flexes his arms just for the sake of feeling the reassuring pull of ropes - mechanical inevitabilities, indifferent sheer material restraints.

He's in luck, however - well, he's in luck to be the target of Douglas' devoted attention, in the first place. Douglas steps around him again, grips his buttocks and parts them with strong presses of his fingers, and begins teasing Martin's hole with the engorged head of his prick. The slick layer of lube transfers quickly from cock to arsehole, and Douglas keeps adding judicious amounts to it - Martin can hear the wet sounds and can feel each slightly cooler dollop on his oversensitised skin.

It's ages before Douglas allows the head to breach Martin, but then he slides in fast enough. Martin can hear his panting, ragged breath, full with need and lust.

"I know how I want to come," Douglas growls. "I want to come just like this, inside you, while you're all trussed up like a gift wrap. A gift from myself to myself."

He pumps within Martin, and Martin whimpers, feeling his release approach again. But this is Douglas, and he trusts him to have at least one more trick up his sleeve.

"Oh, by the way, I'm going to use my fingers as an improvised cock ring - I do hope you don't mind, but I haven't decided yet how _you_ should come."

Martin moans, and Douglas keeps his promise.

Martin is a whimpering, slobbering mess by the time Douglas' leisurely thrusts turn into pounding. One hand grips the base of Martin's cock in a merciless grasp, better, Martin thinks, than any actual cock ring. The other has slipped under a coil of rope, turning it into a sort of handle that Douglas uses to better hold Martin in place as he rocks into him with short but powerful moves. Martin's vision blurs when Douglas bites on his neck, his grunts and groans vibrating along Martin's spine. He feels Douglas' release when it spills inside him, he feels the softening of Douglas' cock and the careful slide out.

Douglas lets out a long, raw, shuddering sigh, which tickles Martin's spine from neck to waist with hot humid air.

"You now," Douglas says, circling around Martin until they're face to face. "What shall I do with you?" he murmurs, gazing into Martin's eyes.

'Whatever you want,' Martin wants to scream.

Douglas' gaze softens, and he strokes Martin's tear-streaked cheeks with a light touch, traces his earlobe with a finger and pulls at it very, very gently. "Indeed," he murmurs, then slides gracefully to his knees.

He dips his head between Martin's legs and licks his perineum, then sticks his fingers in the forgotten chocolate jar and wipes them on Martin's balls. He licks his way around them; Martin feels the ring of his lips widen on the soft skin, finding its way around the hardened glands. It's as slow and drawn out as everything else has been. Martin is beyond whimpering now; he knows his release will come soon, and he can only wait for it.

Wet hotness surrounds his sac as Douglas' mouth cradles it; his tongue plays with Martin's testicles, as Martin's eyes roll in his head. Can one come from this, he wonders idly. It's an interesting question, whether or not he personally is going to be made to come from it right now.

He isn't. Douglas pulls back almost regretfully, but as his face comes into Martin's blurry field of vision again he can see the answer in his eyes, and in the grin as Douglas licks his reddened, swollen lips.

Douglas sits back on the heels of his feet, grips Martin's rope-covered hips, and takes him in his mouth again. The circle of his lips slides over the head of Martin's cock, over the rock-hard shaft, until it hugs the base, hidden in the thick ginger curls. Martin abandons himself to the heat, to the steady rhythm, to the promise in Douglas' eyes.

His arousal rises quickly; his body, teased and brought so near so many times, only needs a nudge to reach the plateau just before the final sharp peak. The inner heat blooms and spreads, from his belly towards all his limbs, tingling with anticipation-arousal-relief. His eyes snap shut and his back arches, straining against the ropes, and he finally comes for what feels like hours.

He's only half-aware as Douglas undoes the rope castle himself, taking the cord from Martin's unresisting fingers. Martin slips bonelessly out of the restraints, and straight into Douglas' arms. Douglas nestles Martin against him, then plucks out the cock gag with delicate gestures. Martin moves his jaw and lips around. He doesn't want to look like he's complaining - of course he's a bit sore, that's just part of it, but Douglas quickly catches on. He places gentle fingers on Martin's cheeks, massaging them, and even gentler lips on Martin's lips, kissing the soreness away. The kiss starts like a soft caress, then goes greedy and needful. Martin's tongue is starved for movement and heat, and he's never known Douglas to back down from a kiss.

"I did miss your lovely, naughty mouth," Douglas murmurs when they have to part for a breath. "Maybe next time I'll use the real thing instead of this gag. I don't think we've done a proper 69 yet, and that just won't do."

Martin breathes his approval between Douglas' lips.


End file.
